the new fangled coffee machine offers much more than coffee. It looks as if it came from the future and proudly stands 3 feet tall on the counter top. It's sleek black plastic front panel reflects an image of it's user. well, not the user as you may know him, but a future version of the user. an aged, paunchy, tired version of the user with a much rounder pumpkin like head.

i want to believe the distorted reflection is a result of the curved plastic panel, sort of like a fun house mirror. i fear that's not the case. the machine came from the future, it reflects the future.

i wonder if there is an older me in the future gazing longingly at a youthful me reflected in a strangly archaic coffee machine.

i have grown to hate this machine. i stand off to the side when using it so not to catch a glimpse of grumpy old man griff. the machine's only mitigating factor is that it makes a wicked good hot chocolate. i assume there was a quantum leap of hot chocolate technology in the 2020's.

passenger 24c, i don't hate you because you are fat, i hate you because the friction and heat between our thighs is causing our sweat to co-mingle in a way only lovers should experience.

passenger 25d, i don't hate you for your extraordinarily clean teeth. i hate you for thinking an airplane is a good place to bust out your dental floss and free the rotting flesh of the big mac meal from between your teeth.

passenger 23d, i don't hate you for the 27 second gaps in your breathing caused by a wicked case of sleep apnea. i hate you for making me fear you may die on this plane and possibly delay my arrival in dallas.

passenger 24c, i don't hate you for being randomly placed beside me. i hate you for not being the woman randomly placed in 23c that greatly resembles selma hyek and smells like a petite and fragile wildflower riding a spring breeze.

finally, passenger 24e, i don't hate you for your natural curriosity and interest in me, i hate you for constantly peeking at my sketch book attempting to read what i am writting andd wondering if i will write about you. fuck off you nosey bastard.

the television hanging from the ceiling in terminal c, gate 36 defecates cnn on to the travelers below. no news, just coby bryant, what saddahm might look like in a fedora, j-lo's ass, and purple bears.

crap 24/7.

apologies to all whom i owe emails, phone calls, promises of fantasy football participation and full body massages.

As you may have noticed, ultramicroscopic has taken a back seat to work. commuting to atlanta from dallas is sapping my life force.

upon reviewing oodles and oodles of documentation at the client site, i found a document documenting the definition of the word document.

Document: A unitary collection of information intended primarily for human consumption. Documents typically have some sort of identifier that distinguishes the document from other documents, such as a filename or document number. Each document has an associated document type. Documents have a primary source form and possibly additional rendition forms.

i wish i could claim the brilliant writing as my own, but it is obviously the work of a technical writer who just realized the banality of his existence. a little gem buried in reams of paper waiting to be discovered.

passenger 26d used both a pink and yellow highlighter pens to mark passages in his spiritual self help book. he marked two or three lines per page.

i rudely watched from the seat next to him. i just had to know what little gems of knowledge were worthy of marking to read again and again. highlighting has always seemed alien to me. never in my entire life have i been moved enough to use a highlighter on a book i was not consuming for school or work.

the marked passages were about women. insight and understanding of how women should be treated. it was very sexist and spoke in generalities, as if all women were the same. many of the passages spoke of god and how he created woman (as if the author had consulted directly with god, the ultimate subject matter expert). the secrets in this book would educate him in a full proof method of successfully interacting with women.

later in the flight, i noticed 26d was brainstorming a list titled "rehearsal dinner attendees". the picture became clear. 26d will wed soon. soon the female he desires will be shackled to a man that reads manuals and listens to dr. laura rather than actually getting to know her.

good luck with all that.

here we are in seats 26d and 26e. both humans, both males - we are frighteningly similar down to our genetic code. Yet one small difference makes us more different than alike, he is a dumb ass.

i believe it is important to laugh at the physical deformities of your friends. it gives you a sense of superiority and reassurance to know your own personal deformities pale in comparison.

pictured are the toes of a close friend. growing up, i thought his webbed toes were the funniest thing on the planet. i called him flipper. i saw him this summer, i still find his toes to be funny.

oh, and he can swim like a motherfucker.